Outside Observations
by SaidbhinLuch
Summary: Whilst tracking down the members of Moriarty's vast web, Sherlock decided to do some checking up on his old life. What he finds, is not something he ever expected to see. Short one shot.


**I wrote this in response to a prompt on tumblr, in which Sherlock stumbles on Molly's dating profile. Happy Sherlock day everyone! Hope you enjoy it!**

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Sherlock ducked into the safe house, trying not to glare at the run down, damp ridden room that Mycroft had set up for him. He inspected the small studio apartment, if he felt like being generous about the description, for any bugs or other devices that either Mycroft or the web may have tried to put in place.

Unfortunately for Sherlock, nothing was to be found so he debated whether or not to chance sitting on the collapsed couch. He opted for the small, spring addled chair instead, as the couch would most likely not bear his weight.

He dug out his phone from his coat pocket, flipping over in his hand and in the air, trying to settle his mind. He was surprised at how much he missed London, 221B, the hum and thrum of the city, the never ending excitement... and his friends.

Perhaps it was foolish, but as time passed, the longer he was forced away from London, the more sentimental he became about his old life. Mycroft had sneered at his flying visits, there were some temptations that even he could not temper, but he simply had to observe them all.

He stared up at the ceiling, mottled in colour and peeling, clearly a fairly common mould had taken hold about a month prior, most likely Absidia. He glanced down at the phone and gave into the temptation of checking up on his former life.

Mrs. Hudson was seeing a new neighbour, however he was going to be convicted of fraud soon enough. Her shop was doing just fine and 221B remained empty, though Mycroft kept up the rental payments in his absence.

Lestrade had been reinstated and by some miracle had actually managed to solve some of his cases, correctly and without _him_.

John was now running his own clinic and seemingly managing just fine without him. Though barely in contact with their former friends, from what he could ascertain with the simple device. And dating someone new, with a probability of it lasting a great deal longer than his previous dalliances, much to Sherlock's surprise.

Then there was Molly, the only person who mattered to him who knew the truth. Promoted, _finally_, and seemingly living the same life as before The Fall. That however did not explain one of the links that appeared in the search engine.

What on _earth_ did Molly need a dating profile for?

He examined the picture as best he could, though the small screen and highly pixalated quality made it tricky. Molly was not preparing for a photograph to be taken of her in that moment. She was not even looking at the camera, but into the distance, hair braided to the side, which caused something inside him to clench curiously.

Rather uncomfortably too.

This had surprised him to no end, for he thought that he had deleted everything to do with that _Woman_, but Molly was not so easily eradicated. He sighed, dragging a hand through his drastically shorter hair and tried to think about anything else.

He stood up and looked outside the small window and stared out at the pouring rain. Sherlock had always assumed that Molly would be like him, unattached and dedicated to her work. What need did she have of romance and all that nonsensical _sentiment_ anyway?

However he could not deny that Molly, with her eager personality and unparalleled ability to remain hopeful in this damning world, would want more for herself.

He glanced down at the page on his phone, and fought back the small smile as he took in the tagline under her name _"I will always believe in Sherlock Holmes."_

She had asked him check in once or twice, to tell her that he was still alive, and he had not yet down so in the six months since he had last seen her. His gut clenched again, and he looked at his hardened reflection in the cracked window, eyebrow twitching involuntarily.

Guilt.

He flipped the phone in the air, catching and staring down at the image, debating with himself. Whereas on one hand, some contact with the outside world would be gratifying, and Molly would no doubt feel relieved, was the risk of being discovered worth it?

_Alive. –SH_

Apparently it was more than enough for him.


End file.
